The Dorm Room: a Chronicle of Spock and Kirk
by Lizzie Foster
Summary: What if Spock and Kirk had met at Starfleet Academy? And, more importantly, what if they had been roommates? Hilarity and the occasional fistfight ensues as Spock realizes that Kirk's favorite pastime is not studying; it's playing pranks. Not slashy
1. Chapter 1

Spock looked around the small bedroom he was to reside in with another student while studying at Starfleet Academy. The room was sparsely furnished: two beds with a desk at the foot of each. There was a small, empty closet on either side of the door and on the far wall was a window that overlooked a sloping lawn with several tasteful but modernly designed academy buildings at the far end. Spock walked further into the room and placed his bag on the bed to the left. He began unpacking his things.

A few moments later a young man with sandy blond hair and a rugged appearance walked into the room. Spock turned and they looked each other up and down for a few moments.

"_You're_ my roommate?" the young man asked incredulously. Spock blinked at him.

"Apparently."

"Figures I get stuck with the alien."

The young man sighed and pushed past him into the room, flopping down on the bed to the left.

"Actually, I've already put my things here." Spock said, gesturing toward his bag at the foot of the bed and his few possessions on the desk.

"Then move 'um." The young man replied. Spock bit the inside of his cheek.

"I was here first. My things are here. Logically, you would simply move to the other side rather than have me move all of my belongings." he said calmly. The sandy-haired youth rolled his eyes.

"Just my luck, I have to live with the only Vulcan in Starfleet." Grudgingly he stood and moved to the other side of the room. He sat down on the bed and gave Spock a cursory glance.

"Nice sweater." he scoffed. Spock looked down at the gray knit sweater he was wearing at his mother's insistence that he would be cold. Even with the sweater he was freezing. On Earth he almost always was.

"Thank you." he replied. The young man rolled his eyes again.

"I was being sarcastic." he said.

"I do not comprehend sarcasm." Spock replied.

"That's when someone says something they don't mean." the young man explained patronizingly. "I thought you had to be smart to get into the academy." he added under his breath.

"I understand the definition of the word." Spock snapped back. He took a deep breath to calm himself. _I am in control of my emotions. I am in control of my emotions. I am in control._

"What's your name?" his roommate asked offhandedly.

"Spock." Spock replied.

"That's it? Just Spock?" the young man asked, a little disdainfully.

He shook his head. "My full name is unpronounceable to humans and my mother also gave me the name Harold."

"Are you kidding?" Kirk asked, eyeing his roommate skeptically.

"I am incapable of "kidding"." Spock replied matter-of-factly. "And you are?"

"I'm James Tiberius Kirk." The sandy-haired youth replied proudly. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Do you always introduce yourself using your middle name?" he asked, a little condescendingly. They glared at each other. Or rather Kirk glared.

Spock turned away and continued unpacking. He counted the seconds as they passed to calm himself. After two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, as he was setting a small potted plant native to Vulcan on his desk, Kirk suddenly exclaimed:

"No! You are not putting that up in our room!"

Spock turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Kirk got to his feet and crossed to Spock's side of the room. "_You_ are not putting any flowers in _my_ room!" he said, pointing accusingly at the plant as if it had just murdered someone.

"It is not a flowering plant and I can put whatever I like on _my_ side of the room." Spock replied firmly. Kirk glowered at him.

"Fine. Then I can put whatever I want on _my _side of the room." He crossed to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper and a marker. He scribbled on the paper for a few moments before attaching it firmly to the wall. On the papers he had scrawled, "VULCANS DON'T BELONG IN STARFLEET" and had drawn a stick figure with angled eyebrows and pointed ears at the bottom with a slash through it. He turned around to face Spock and crossed his arms stubbornly.

Under normal circumstances Spock would not allow such a childish action to anger him. However, the words reminded of him of his father. Reminded him of the icy silence that had existed between them since he first decided to join Starfleet. Reminded him of how disappointed and angry Sarek was that Spock had chosen to join Starfleet instead the Vulcan Science Academy. More than anything Spock, as the first of his kind in Starfleet, wanted to prove his father and the words on that paper wrong. Vulcans _did_ belong in Starfleet. And he wasn't about to let this hedonistic simpleton tell him otherwise.

"I find your sense of decorating extremely distasteful and will _not_ spend my time at school here looking at that." He crossed the room and made a move to tear down the paper. Kirk knocked his hand away. Spock shoved Kirk roughly against the desk, pinning him with his forearm. The young man wrenched free and slammed his fist into the Vulcan's face. Spock stumbled and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at the green smear on his knuckles and then glared at Kirk.

"You bleed green? You're even more of a freak then I thought."

Spock hit Kirk as hard as he could in the jaw. The young man was thrown backwards onto the floor by the force of the impact. Spock walked over and looked down at him.

"I suggest you avoid making me do that in the future." He warned. "Otherwise you might get hurt."

Kirk clenched his jaw angrily. He kicked Spock's legs out from under him and leaped on him with an angry yell. The two young men wrestled on the floor, knocking into things and making a racket.

"Just what is going on here?" a deep voice boomed from the doorway. The boys stopped fighting and looked up. One of the instructors was standing in the threshold, glowering down at them. Both scrambled to their feet as quickly as possible, straightening their clothes and wiping away blood. Kirk was bleeding from a cut above his eye and Spock from his lip.

"It was my fault, sir. I allowed myself to lose control of my emotions and I am extremely sorry for it." Spock said. The instructor shook his head in disappointment.

"You're one of our brightest, Mr. Spock." he said. "I'm afraid I'll have to inform your father about this."

Spock was unable to hide his embarrassment. He hung his head in shame. The instructor turned to leave.

"It was my fault, sir." Kirk interrupted. The instructor stopped and turned.

"Mr. Kirk?"

"I baited him. I threw the first punch." Kirk said. "If anyone should be punished it should be me."

The instructor sighed. "Do you know why we put you boys together?"

They shook their heads and quietly murmured, "No sir."

"It's because out of all of the students here, you two have the most potential… You could be a great team. Don't waste it." He paused. "I'll let this incident slide, but don't let it happen again!"

Spock's head pricked up. "You're not going to tell my father?"

The instructor shrugged. "From what I hear you're in enough trouble already."

"Thank you, sir."

"It won't happen again, sir." Kirk added.

"It better not!" the instructor warned. "Now you boys finish unpacking and, for goodness' sake, _try_ to get along." He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Kirk massaged his bruised jaw as if making sure it was still attached.

"You sure can throw a punch, I'll give you that." he said with a short laugh.

"From you, I will accept that as a compliment and I thank you as I'm sure it was kindly meant, although I am mortified by the incident and offer my humblest apologies." Spock replied.

"Don't worry about it… Well, I guess I'll take this down now." Kirk sighed, pointing toward the paper still tacked on the wall.

"Leave it." Spock replied. He went to his desk and retrieved his own paper and pen. He wrote for a few moments and then attached the sheet to his wall, taking great care that it was hung straight. It read, "Humans are highly illogical."

"Wow." Kirk said sarcastically. "That's a real dagger to the heart there."

"It is a piece of paper, not a dagger. And is not even in near proximity to your heart." Spock replied.

"I was being figurative, not literal," Kirk said, "and sarcastic."

"I do not comprehend figurative language or sarcasm." Spock replied. Kirk covered his eyes with his hands.

"This is going to be a loooooong year."


	2. Chapter 2

Spock sat at his desk, quietly doing homework. The problem asked him to calculate the amount of time it would take to restart the engines after they had completely cooled. Spock wrote:

Using the regulation matter/antimatter formula it would require approximately 29.36 minutes under the best circumstances to restart the engines. Hypothetically, however, it could be possible to restart the engines in less than ten minutes by using a different formula that has only been theorized but never actually tested.

He glanced over at Kirk's paper, which was resting on the edge of the other desk.

Ask Scotty.

Spock frowned.

"Merry Christmas, buddy!" Kirk exclaimed happily, bursting through the door. He was holding a large wreath, which he hung on the inside of the door, and a box. "I bought some lights for us to hang around the room. You don't mind, do ya?" Without waiting for an answer Kirk pulled a string of lights from the package began decorating the room.

"I do not understand what you're doing." Spock replied.

"It's Christmas!" Kirk said. "Y'know, Santa Claus and cookies and presents!"

"I have read of it, but I do not comprehend it." Spock replied. "It is not possible for an overweight man to fly in a sled pulled by levitating reindeer around the world in one night, much less fit down chimneys and leave toys for children."

"It's magic, Spock!" Kirk insisted, pulling a small, potted evergreen tree from the box and setting it on his desk. "You have to believe."

"I find that quite difficult and do not understand why any intelligent person would believe in such an impossibility." Spock said frankly. Kirk leaned towards him.

"Well," he murmured, as if sharing an important secret, "no one _actually_ believes in Santa Claus. We just pretend."

Spock pursed his lips. "That is illogical. Why would one _pretend_ to believe in something that one knows cannot exist?"

"For fun!" Kirk replied. He pulled a sprig of mistletoe from the package and, standing on his chair, hung it over the doorway.

"What is the significance of that?" Spock asked, putting down his pen and turning his chair.

"It's mistletoe! You kiss girls under it!" Kirk said excitedly.

"Kiss?" Spock asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Kirk hesitated. "The same reason you pretend to believe in Santa. For fun."

"I do not see the connection between a parasitical plant and kissing." Spock said, folding his arms and tilting his head to one side.

"That's because there isn't one." Kirk replied with a hint of annoyance. "You just do it, okay?" He resumed decorating the room and Spock turned back to his homework.

"So… what do you hope Santa brings you for Christmas?" Kirk asked casually after a few moments of silence.

"I thought we had already established Santa Claus as an impossibility." Spock replied, setting down his pen.

"And I told you that you believe anyway!" Kirk sighed.

"Pretend to believe," the Vulcan corrected, "and I will do no such thing. It is not logical to pretend."

"Pretending makes life more bearable." Kirk replied. "Sometimes I pretend that I have a normal roommate." he added under his breath.

"I am functioning quite normally for a Vulcan." Spock said as he wrote an answer to a question on his homework.

"Fine. A human roommate then." the young man replied, picking at a knot in his string of lights. Spock glanced over at him.

"Would you like my help decorating the room?"

"Why? You don't believe in Christmas." Kirk said accusingly.

"Yes, but I am curious about human traditions and this could be a very instructive experience." Spock replied.

Kirk looked at him and then the package containing the decorations. "Sure. Go for it."

Spock got up and crossed the room. He reached into the package and retrieved a long garland of snowflakes.

"Would I be correct in assuming that this is to be hung somewhere?" the Vulcan asked, holding it up.

"Yeah. Hang it over the window, will ya?" Kirk replied. Standing on his bed, Spock attached the garland to the top of the window so that the snowflakes hung downward. He was careful to make it symmetrical, so there was the same number of snowflakes on each half of the window. He stepped back to admire his work.

"Looks good." Kirk said.

"Thank you." Spock replied.

Kirk pulled a picture of Santa Claus flying in his sleigh from the box and began placing it on the wall.

"I will tolerate the parasite hanging over our doorway but I will not allow you to hang _that_ in our room." Spock said.

"It's going on my wall." Kirk replied. "I thought we agreed that I could have whatever I wanted on _my_ side and you could have whatever you wanted on _your_ side."

"I will not be able to concentrate with that picture hanging on the wall." Spock said. "It will make my meditation impossible."

"Hey, I'm the one who has to clear out of here for two hours everyday so you can 'meditate'!" Kirk snapped.

"Meditation is a highly personal practice." Spock replied.

"So you say. I think you just want to get rid of me." the young man accused.

"That is certainly one of the benefits." Spock answered coolly. Kirk glared at him and then stuffed the picture back into the box.

"Fine." he said angrily.

"Fine." Spock replied. The Vulcan sat back at his desk and resumed his work while Kirk began humming as he decorated.

"Deck the hall with boughs of holly…"

"Please don't." Spock sighed.

"FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!"

Spock massaged his temples as if he had a headache. "Don't sing, Jim. You know I can't focus when you sing."

"Tis the season to be jolly…"

"Jim…"

"FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!"

"You do realize you've changed keys three times already, don't you?" Spock asked. Kirk just smiled mischievously and took a deep breath.

"Don we now our gay apparel. Fa la la la la la la la la! Troll the ancient yuletide carol…"

"Are you finished?"

"FA LA LA LA LA… LA LAAAAA LAAAAA… LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

Kirk ended with a flourishing bow and smiled smugly at Spock. The Vulcan did not look pleased.

"Do… not… sing… anymore." he said slowly. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. _I am in control of my emotions. I am in control._

"Does that mean you'll let me hang up Santa?" Kirk asked. Spock didn't answer. Kirk took a deep breath. "Yooooooou better watch out! You better not cry! You better not pout I'm telling you why!"

"Fine!" Spock conceded. "Put up the picture."

Kirk did a celebratory dance.

"But put it on the inside of your closet door so it can be removed from sight when I am meditating." Spock added.

"I will agree to that." Kirk said cheerfully, hanging the picture in his closet. He looked around the room, now twinkling with colorful lights.

"Merry Christmas, Spock." He said.

Spock resumed his homework.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was cramped but Spock found that there was enough room between the beds to perform Tai Chi, a human pastime that he enjoyed very much. He found the smooth lines and deliberate motions calming and with James T. Kirk as his roommate he needed all the calming he could get.

Kirk's favorite pastime seemed to be discovering how riled he could get the Vulcan without getting thrown through the window. Sometimes Spock really did want to throw him through the window but anger was a human emotion and so he suppressed it.

"Got a girl in here?" Kirk asked as he burst through the doorway. Spock calmly continued his Tai Chi as if nothing had happened. He knew Kirk was trying to break his concentration.

"That is an illogical question. I never have anyone in the room." Spock replied serenely, moving his arms into a longer position and turning his torso.

"That's why I worry about you, Harold." Kirk sighed, sitting down and putting his feet up on the desk.

"My name is Spock." The Vulcan replied levelly. "Please do not refer to me by my Earth name."

"But since you're not on Vulcan anymore, you're on Earth, I think you should go by your Earth name, Harold. After all, that's what your mother wanted."

Spock knew Kirk was baiting him. He took a deep, cleansing breath and moved smoothly into the next position.

"I understand your logic but as a personal preference I am called Spock, on Earth and on Vulcan." he replied calmly.

"What about on Rigel 4?" Kirk asked. "Can they call you Harold there?"

"No."

"On Romulus?"

"No."

"Pluto?"

"Pluto, as you well know, has not been considered a planet since the solar year 2004." Spock replied matter-of-factly. "Nor could I be called anything there as it is uninhabitable."

"I suppose you're right, Harold."

Spock took another deep breath. "My name is Spock."

"But your name is _also_ Harold." Kirk replied. Spock bit the inside of his cheek.

"Yes, that is true. But I do not go by the name Harold. My name is Spock." he said coolly.

"All right, Harold." Kirk conceded. He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "Some of us are going out tonight. Do you want to go, Harold?"

"I do not generally "go out". Nor do I think you or your friends would want me to join the party." Spock replied. "I hardly make good company by Earth standards."

"Of course we want you there, Harold!" Kirk exclaimed. "Everyone wants to see what happens when a Vulcan gets drunk."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"And everyone loves you, of course." Kirk added. "C'mon! You're my best bud! You have to go!"

"Bud?" Spock asked.

"You know!"

"If I knew I hardly would have asked."

"Bud is short for buddy. Pal. Friend." Kirk explained.

"Well, I'm flattered but I'd rather not spend the evening as a spectacle for your friends to laugh at." Spock replied coolly.

"They're not laughing at you!" Kirk assured him. Spock raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so maybe they are but that's what friends are for! They laugh at you and you laugh at them and everyone laughs together!"

"I do not laugh." Spock replied. "If I do not laugh then, by your definition, I cannot be a friend."

"Well, you don't have to actually laugh to be a friend. As long as you just get that little amused look on your face that's good enough." Kirk said.

"I think I shall remain here and read."

"You do that every night." Kirk sighed. "Everyone you know will be there. Scotty, Janice, Uhura, McCoy—"

"I cannot go." Spock interrupted. He stopped doing Tai Chi and sat down on his bed, picking up a book.

"What?" Kirk asked. "Just because McCoy's going to be there? C'mon. He's not that bad."

"He will spend the whole evening making malicious comments about my manner and appearance." Spock replied.

"Can you blame him? You _are_ kind of a freak!" Kirk said. "I mean, come on! You bleed green!"

Spock raised an eyebrow at him over his book.

"A very cute freak at that." Kirk added.

"I need to study." Spock said matter-of-factly.

"We both know that isn't true. You know Starfleet regulation better than the quacks who wrote it." Kirk replied. "It'll be fun. I'll introduce you to some cute girls who really want to meet you." he added coaxingly. Spock glanced at him over his book.

"They want to meet me?" he asked. Kirk nodded.

"You, my dear Harold, are the ultimate unattainable guy." he explained. "Chicks totally dig that. It gives them a challenge."

Spock's eyes quickly went back to the page but Kirk could tell he wasn't reading any of the words.

"I suppose it could be a very educational opportunity to observe human social activities." Spock said slowly.

"Oh, very education." Kirk agreed, feigning severity. He stood up and went to his closet, pulling out a shirt and throwing it to Spock.

"What's this?" the Vulcan asked, picking up the shirt.

"You can't go out in one of your funky sweaters." Kirk replied. "So put it on and let's go!" He left the room. Spock held up the clothing to examine it.

"This is purely for investigative and educational purposes." he justified. And with that he put on the shirt and followed Kirk from the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock hung his head in shame as he picked glass from the dorm room's faded carpet under the reproachful watch of an academy instructor. He had been very in control of his emotions for the last several weeks and he had believed that he was learning to suppress his human half more effectively. But James Tiberius Kirk had to find a new way to irritate him.

It had been earlier in the day, during lunch. Spock had taken the reprieve from his roommate to meditate. He had just begun to slip into his contemplative state when the door burst open suddenly. Spock opened his eyes to see Kirk and a female companion he did not recognize stumble into the room, giggling. Spock did not approve of giggling in general but this blatant encroachment into his privacy was a personal affront.

Kirk suddenly realized that he and his lady friend weren't the only ones in the room.

"Hey Spock!" he said with a sheepish grin. The young lady looked at the Vulcan sitting on the bed quizzically.

"He-llo!" Kirk's female friend said, carefully emphasizing each syllable and speaking much louder than necessary in the small room. "Does it know English?" she whispered to Kirk, loud enough that Spock didn't need his keen Vulcan ears to overhear.

"Spock is a 'he', and yes, he can speak English." Kirk replied. "He's a freak, not stupid."

Spock didn't mind when Kirk called him a freak in private, as he knew that his roommate used the term affectionately. However, this young lady did not know that and Spock did not liked being referred to as a freak in front of strangers.

"May I enquire what you're doing?" Spock asked coolly.

"I wanted to use my room." Kirk replied. The girl giggled. Spock did not approve.

"We agreed that this time was reserved for my use," he said, purposefully not mentioning his private meditation in front of this stranger who seemed to understand very little about Vulcans.

"It's only one afternoon!" Kirk appealed. "It's not fair that you commandeer the room every day."

"It's just as much his room as it is yours!" the young lady complained.

"As you are not a resident of this dormitory the dispute does not involve you and I would ask that you please refrain from comment." Spock replied. The girl glared at him and pulled open the door.

"See you later, James." she said. "I'll see you when you get a roommate with some manners." She slammed the door shut after her. Spock would have been glad to see her go if gladness were not a human emotion.

"Way to go!" Kirk said angrily, glaring at Spock. "Now she's gone. Do you have to be such a stick in the mud all the time?"

"I was not aware that I was a stick or 'in the mud'." Spock replied.

"See? That's what I mean! I'm so sick of explaining everything to you all the time! And you didn't have to be such a jerk to Veronica!"

"There was nothing rude in my comment." Spock protested. "It was purely logical that, as a third party, she not intrude in matters that were not of her concern. You would call it 'nosy'."

"She doesn't know anything about Vulcans! She doesn't understand that you always talk like that!"

"It was apparent that she knew nothing of Vulcans." Spock replied. "However, I would have thought that you knew enough of my kind to understand the importance of private meditation."

"It's always about your stupid meditation!" Kirk yelled. "I think that's just an excuse! You don't want me to use the room!"

Spock was now on his feet and the two young men were standing face to face.

"That is ridiculous." the Vulcan insisted. Kirk smirked smugly.

"You're just jealous because no girl wants to spend time with a green-blooded, pointy eared fr—"

Kirk never got to finish the word 'freak'. The weeks of Spock's suppressed emotions suddenly exploded. He seized Kirk by the front of his uniform and threw him through the window.

Spock, ashamed and repentant, immediately rushed down the stairs to his roommate's aid. Luckily their window was not too far off the ground. But Kirk had sustained some injury and had to be taken away on a stretcher.

No one found the situation more humorous than Kirk.

"Don't sweat it, bud. I was asking for it." Kirk said from his reclined position on the stretcher in response to Spock's guilt stricken apologies. He offered his hand to the Vulcan, who took it.

"I guess I just pushed your buttons a little t0o hard today." Kirk laughed.

"That does seem to be your favorite pastime." Spock conceded.

"And I wasn't serious when I said that no girls like you." Kirk admitted. "In fact, when I get back from the hospital I want to set you up with this one girl who asked about you. She has the biggest—"

"No thank you." Spock replied. "I just want my meditation time back."

Kirk smiled. "It's all yours. I'd rather not repeat this little experience."

"I concur."

"Mr. Spock!" said a sharp voice behind them.

"You're in for it now!" Kirk teased as he was pulled away toward the ambulance hovering nearby. "Tell me what happens!"

Spock hung his head in shame and turned, looking down at the shoes of an academy instructor.

After a long lecture about the evils of throwing fellow students out of windows, Spock was sentenced to picking every shard of glass out of the lawn and the carpet of the dorm by hand. Despite the great care he took in the task his fingers were crisscrossed with green cuts. But he wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him wince. A crowd had gathered outside the window by this time and they watched him as his picked through the grass. The instructor didn't ask them to leave; that was the real punishment. Embarrassment was a human emotion but Spock couldn't keep it at bay. He was ashamed, mortified. But he wouldn't allow them to see that.

He must've become careless because a piece of glass hidden in the grass made a long gash down his palm. He heard murmuring from the crowd. Green blood dripped down his hand and he continued picking up the shards.

"Instructor, please. This is barbaric!" said a reproachful voice.

"Cadet, such severe misdemeanors must be punished." the instructor said.

"This isn't punishment! It's inhumane!" Nyota Uhura crouched beside Spock and reached for his hand. "Let me help you."

"The instructor is quite correct." Spock said. "What I have done is inexcusable."

"Then you should be suspended or publicly reprimanded." Uhura said. "They shouldn't make you bleed."

She gently tried to take his dripping hand but he pulled it away.

"Your concern is kindly meant," he said, "but your sympathies only add to my discomfort. Please cease."

Uhura seemed taken aback. Then, slowly, she nodded. She got to her feet and walked away, pushing her way through the ring of people that had crowded around to see the Vulcan's humiliation.

After he had picked up every shard of glass in the grass, the instructor marched the no longer bleeding but bloodstained Spock up to the room where he removed every stray piece of glass from the carpet.

"I know I don't have to tell you not to let this happen again." The instructor said as he watched.

"No, sir." Spock replied, refusing to look up.

There was a moment of silence. Spock cut himself again.

"Maybe we could get you moved to another room. Another roommate." the instructor suggested.

"Thank you, but absolutely not." Spock replied, finally looking up. Then he went back to picking up glass.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock watched as snow fell silently outside the window. The lawn was littered with footprints, snowmen, and the occasional snow angel. It was unusual to see snow in San Francisco, but this snow was in no way usual. It stopped at the edge of the normally green lawn and was flanked by blue skies and palm trees. The snow had been artificially created by a climate control mechanism that Spock himself had designed. The outcome was as he had calculated and the students seemed to have enjoyed themselves on his experiment. He had not participated in the snowy revelry himself. It would've wasted both his time and his energy as no lasting product could be created from the ice that would be completely melted in only a few days. Also, he found snow a bit too cold for him, as he was uncomfortably cool anyways, except on the very hottest days.

The door opened and slammed shut behind him. He turned to see Kirk, dripping wet and bleeding heavily from his nose, rifling around through his desk drawers for, presumably, a first aid kit.

"May I enquire as to how you received your injury?" Spock asked coolly. Kirk only needed one word to explain.

"Finnegan."

Spock frowned imperceptibly. Finnegan was an upperclassman and the bane of his roommate's existence. Practical jokes seemed to be all this bully was studying at Starfleet and his favorite victim was none other that James Tiberius Kirk. It was not unusual for the young man to return to the room with superficial injuries that had resulted from these pranks. Spock found nothing humorous about such violent and disrespectful behavior, but apparently Finnegan and his friends did. He would have reported it by now except that Kirk had made him give his word that he wouldn't.

"What is his latest trick?" Spock asked. Kirk settled down in his seat with a weary sigh, looking quite comical with cotton stuck up his nostrils.

"Old trick, new consequence." he said. "Bucket of water balanced over a half open door. Only this time when the bucket fell it decided to try and take my nose with it too."

Spock handed his friend a towel. "Jim, if you would only allow me to report this immature and reckless behavior, I am certain that—"

"No." Kirk insisted stubbornly. "I already told you not to. I won't let you run off and tattle." He sighed. "That'd really give Finnegan and his friends something to laugh at." he added gloomily.

Spock furrowed his brow. "Fine. I will settle this."

"What?" Kirk asked, looking over his bloodied and swollen noise at his friend. "What do you mean, 'settle this'?"

"I do not wish to burden you with the details." Spock replied, moving toward the door. "I can only assure you that this behavior will cease."

Spock left Kirk in the room and walked serenely but purposefully down the hall. Finnegan, as an upperclassman, resided in the next building over in room 314. Spock knocked sharply on the door. It was answered by a tall, goofy-looking, blonde-haired boy.

"Finnegan, I presume?" Spock asked politely.

"You got it." The boy replied. "What do you want, big-ears?"

Spock was hardly offended by the comment about the size of his ears. It was a perfectly valid statement as his ears were relatively large by human standards, if not by Vulcan. He did not even realize the comment was meant as an insult.

"You will discontinue your abuse of James Kirk." Spock said simply. Finnegan laughed, a loud and particularly grating noise.

"You got a lot of nerve, even if you aren't going to live long." The bully replied. "I'll 'abuse' whoever I like and no alien underclassman will tell me otherwise." He punctuated this statement by roughly shoving the Vulcan further into the hallway.

"You _will_ discontinue this behavior." Spock repeated firmly.

"Or what?" Finnegan asked tauntingly. "You'll tell on me?"

He tried to push the Vulcan again but Spock easily sidestepped out of the way, seizing Finnegan by the wrist and twisting it behind the older boys back in an extremely painful manner. With his free hand, Spock slammed two fingers into the upperclassman's larynx, causing his to gasp for breath and fall to his knees.

"Are you familiar with the term Talshia?" Spock asked. Finnegan had not yet regained the ability to speak and so merely answered by shaking his head with a whimper.

"It is the methodical breaking of the neck formally practiced by Vulcans as a form of execution." Spock explained coolly as if he were holding a normal conversation instead of inflicting pain upon another student. "Do you understand?"

The bully nodded emphatically.

"I will say this only once more." Spock warned. "You _will_ cease your frankly distasteful practical jokes."

Finnegan nodded again. The Vulcan finally released him.

"Do not attempt to report this event." Spock said. "If you do then I shall be forced to report on your behavior, and I guarantee that it will be you who is expelled and not I."

He didn't wait for another head nod. He left Finnegan on the floor and returned to his own dorm room. Kirk's nose had stopped bleeding by this time and he was mopping the blood from his face with a damp washcloth.

Spock walked silently past him and settled down on his bed with a little light reading on astrophysics.

"Well?" Kirk asked. "Where have you been? If you reported Finnegan then I'll break _your_ nose." he threatened. Spock didn't even look up from his book.

"Finnegan is no longer a problem."

Kirk looked perplexed for a moment and then smiled mischievously.

"You didn't…"

The Vulcan looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. Kirk burst into laughter.

"You are the _man!_" he declared, smiling. "I can't believe you risked expulsion for me."

"Don't be absurd." Spock replied. "Starfleet would not expel me." He gestured toward the window. "I made it snow in San Francisco."


	6. Chapter 6

As Spock slowly opened the door, he swept the interior of the dorm room with his eyes, carefully searching every corner and shadow. Satisfied, he entered the room and shut the entry behind him. The door made a pleasing clicking noise as it snapped into place. Love was a human emotion but Spock could not deny that he greatly enjoyed the sound. It was as if it restored the parameters of the room, parameters being extremely important.

The reason Spock had taken the time to scan the room before entering was because his hellion of a roommate, James Kirk, had recently taken to hiding and jumping out suddenly with some sort of exclamation in an attempt to startle the Vulcan. He was never successful of course, but Spock still found the experience damaging to his serenity and so he had taken up the habit of looking over the dorm before going in. Fortunately, today it seemed he had the room to himself. Solitude was a luxury that Spock had far too little of.

Spock settled down in the chair at his desk with what would have been a pleased sigh, if pleasure weren't a human emotion and therefore foreign to him. The most he could claim to be was content, as he considered contentment to be more of a state of being rather than an actual emotion. He took a book from his neatly ordered shelf, the tomes being arranged alphabetically, and opened it to the page he had left off from.

"YAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Kirk suddenly burst out of the closet with a flying leap. The Vulcan did not even glance up from his book.

"Oh, come on!" Kirk exclaimed. "I have been sitting in that stupid closet for a full half hour and you didn't even look up!"

"I know. I could hear you breathing." Spock replied coolly.

"You could not!" Kirk replied accusingly. The Vulcan finally glanced up with a raised eyebrow. He tapped his large, pointed ears with one finger. Kirk glared in response.

"Cheater."

"I cannot help it if Vulcan hearing is superior to humans'." Spock replied coolly.

"Well, at least I don't have big, goofy ears." the young man shot back, flopping down into his chair.

"I'll have you know that on Vulcan, my ears would be considered extremely aesthetically pleasing." Spock said.

"We'll just have to call you 'Sexy-Ears' from now on then, won't we?" Kirk said smugly. "I can't wait to tell McCoy…"

"You will do no such thing," the Vulcan commanded. "I receive quite enough abuse from that young man without your encouragement."

"Abuse?" Kirk asked. "You make it sound as if he beats you!"

"I can assure you, Leonard McCoy could _not_ beat me…" Spock murmured.

"So what if he calls you names sometimes?" Kirk continued. "I call you names all the time! Isn't that right, Sexy-Ears?" He smiled. "Just found a breach in _your_ logic in a grand total of three sentences. That's smart."

"When was your intelligence called into question?" Spock asked, perplexed.

"You know that you think you're smarter than I am." Kirk said accusatorily.

"I am smarter than you." the Vulcan replied simply.

"See!" his roommate exclaimed. "Proof!"

"Humans are very odd." Spock concluded.

"You're half-human, so welcome to the club." Kirk replied, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk.

"What club?"

"The Odd Club."

Spock blinked as if the action would help his brain process this bit of information. Kirk half expected smoke to emerge from the Vulcan's pointed ears and to hear him say, "insufficient data does not compute" in a robotic tone before collapsing on the desk. This did not occur, of course, but Kirk thought it would be funny if it had. He smiled at his private joke.

"Do not mock me." Spock said, as if he could read the young man's thoughts.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sexy-Ears!" Kirk replied with a lop-sided grin. The Vulcan blinked at him a few more times before returning his attention to his book.

"So, they really think those lunkers are hot on Vulcan, huh?"

"If by lunkers you are referring to my ears, then no." Spock replied. "Part of the function of Vulcan ears is to release heat from the body, ergo you could not consider them hot."

"You're so dense sometimes." Kirk said with an indignant sniff. "I don't know why I hang out with you."

"Because I have sexy ears." Spock replied coolly. Kirk's face brightened.

"Aw!" he cooed. "You made a joke!"

If Spock were able to smile, he would have.


	7. Chapter 7

Arms full of books, Spock shifted his precarious load in order to snake out a hand to unlock the door to his dorm. While his mother had sent him a brand new pad that could hold well over 10,000 pieces of text, he found that nothing could replace the feeling of holding the actual tome in one's hands. The Vulcan could often be seen making the trip to and from library, loaded with books with titles ranging from _Advanced Astrophysics of the Diffuse Universe_ to _The Boxcar Children._ He found he could learn a great deal about human behavior and culture from the volumes he retrieved from the library. Unfortunately, none of his readings helped him to better understand his troublesome roommate.

Spock entered the dorm room to find Kirk standing with his back to the door between the two beds in a very familiar, crisp, blue uniform. The Vulcan set his load down on his desk.

"Are you wearing my uniform?" he asked, his eyebrows pulling together in an imperceptible frown.

Kirk turned around, revealing angled eyebrows and prosthetic tips seamlessly adhered to his ears. "Guess who I am!" he deflected excitedly. He stopped smiling and assumed a severe expression. "Kirk, you are illogical." he said in a deep voice. Then his expectant smile returned as quickly as it had gone. Spock blinked several times in response.

"I do not…"

"I'm you!" Kirk exclaimed.

"I recognize the attempted imitation—"

"Don't worry, I'm going to dye my hair black."

"—but I fail to see the purpose. And my hair is not black. It is brown."

"Are you sure?" Kirk asked.

"I am quite certain that I do not understand your purpose." Spock replied.

"No, no! Not that. Your hair. Are you sure it's not black?" Kirk stepped closer so he could examine the Vulcan's hair color more carefully.

"I believe that one _would_ know one's own hair color." Spock said. His roommate looked doubtful.

"I have to look at you way more than you have to look at yourself." he replied. Spock had to acquiesce that point. "It looks pretty black to me." Kirk continued.

"It is a very dark brown." the Vulcan insisted. "But my hair color is immaterial. What is your purpose in imitating my appearance?"

"It's Halloween, of course! And I decided that I should dress up like you and you should dress up like me." Kirk explained excitedly, abandoning his inspection of Spock's hair color and pulling one of his wrinkled, gold uniforms from his drawer. He handed it to his alien roommate, who looked at it dubiously.

"I do not understand your human custom."

Kirk sighed. "On Halloween everyone dresses up like something or someone they're not and then goes to a party."

"Why?"

"Because it's fun, that's why!" the young man explained shortly. "Now hurry and get dressed so that we can get going."

"'Because it is fun' seems to be your explanation for everything." Spock remarked.

"That's because it's the only good reason for doing anything." Kirk replied. "Now, you can dye your hair blonde once I'm done dying mine black."

"Dark brown." Spock interjected quickly.

"Whatever." Kirk pulled a handheld device with a comb attached to its end from his desk and, after adjusting a few knobs and buttons, began carefully running it through his hair. The strands that were run through the teeth of the comb immediately turned dark brown, so dark it almost looked black. Spock watched the process with interest.

"Well, are you going to change or are you going to make me go to this party by myself?" Kirk asked without looking over. "It won't be any fun having a Spock without a Kirk."

"Or a Kirk without a Spock?" the Vulcan posed tentatively.

"You got it!" his roommate replied, examining his new hair in the mirror. He turned and tossed the device to Spock. "Now hurry up!"

Spock pulled off his neat, blue uniform and replaced it with the crinkled gold one. It felt odd, but somewhat refreshing. It was as if he was no longer himself, the ever self-conscious Vulcan who was constantly pressured to always say, think, and do the logical thing. In his disguise he could be someone else, someone carefree and uninhibited. He attempted to smile, as if testing how far this change of character would take him. He couldn't do it. It felt wrong.

Even in the guise of James T. Kirk, underneath he was still Spock of Vulcan, with all of his logic and dignity.

And that was acceptable.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all for your very kind reviews! I have a quick message to Kromeshnitca. I do not mind if you translate this into Russian as long as it won't be used for nefarious purposes and if I am credited. ;) I would just like to state for the record that I am in no way affiliated with Star Trek. I do not own Star Trek or anything related to it. Anyway, back to the important stuff.**

Spock wasn't nervous. That would be unVulcan. But he didn't feel as cool and calculated as he should under the circumstances. He was not ill, therefore it was illogical to feel as he did.

Kirk had assured him it was just butterflies in his stomach.

"I did not swallow any butterflies." Spock replied. "And the digestive acids in my stomach would have ensured the death of the insects, even it were possible for them to survive ingestion."

"They're not literal butterflies." Kirk said. "That's just a metaphor for describing the fluttering sensation in your gut."

"Logical." Spock conceded. "But I do not approve of metaphors."

"Oh, believe me," his roommate sighed, "I know." He flopped onto his bed and rested his feet high on the wall casually. "Just be cool like you always are and you'll be fine."

"I was not concerned."

"Right." Kirk replied sarcastically. "Listen, Uhura agreed to go out with you in the first place, so she obviously has some interest. Don't sweat it. Besides, I'll be there the whole time with Janice. I'll be your wingman."

"Wingman?" Spock asked.

"Yeah, y'know, like backup." Kirk explained. "Your go-to guy, your comrade, the one who has your back."

"You'll have my back?" the Vulcan repeated incredulously. "Please refrain from using human colloquialisms that you know very well I will not comprehend."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "That means that I'll help you out if you need it."

"I should hardly think that I would need assistance." Spock replied. "Cadet Uhura, after all, is only a fellow student."

"A gorgeous, female student with legs that won't stop!" Kirk retorted. "Even you can't keep your head when presented with that kind of distraction."

"I most certainly can." Spock insisted. "I believe you underestimate my powers of self-control."

"Spock, you threw me through this window once." Kirk said, pointing to the newly replaced glass near his head. "Of _course_ I underestimate your powers of self-control."

"I thought we agreed that we would not ever discuss that _incident_ ever again," the Vulcan said. Kirk smiled innocently and shrugged.

"You started it."

"Perhaps I should have purchased flowers." Spock mused, turning his mind to other, more pressing matters.

"What for?" Kirk asked, kicking the wall idly. Their neighbors in the next dorm pounded angrily on the partition in reply.

"In my readings I have discovered that human females are recorded as being partial to floral arrangements as gifts. If I am to truly understand human behavior I must test such assertions and experience them for myself." Spock replied coolly. "That is why I invited Cadet Uhura on an outing in the first place."

"So, you're only going out with her for research and not because she's one of the most beautiful girls at Starfleet?" Kirk inquired skeptically.

"Aesthetics were taken into consideration. I wanted to explore what humans find attractive."

"I think in this case the appreciation is universal." Kirk replied. "You can't seriously tell me you don't think she's hot."

"If by "hot" you mean attractive, then I could not confirm or deny such a statement as Vulcans have no appreciation for outward appearance. Her bone structure would indicate that humans would consider her beautiful, but I make no such distinction."

Kirk's mouth fell open. "No way. I don't buy it. I can't believe it."

"Please explain." Spock said, cocking his head slightly.

"I can't believe that anyone, Vulcan or otherwise, can say that outward appearance doesn't even register to them." Kirk replied. "Especially not _my_ roommate."

"Vulcans value other traits that transcend beauty, such as intelligence and logic." Spock said.

"So what do you guys talk about over there? 'Hey, Spock, did you see that girl? She is _so_ logical!'" Kirk couldn't repress his laughter.

"Actually," Spock said, once his roommate's guffaws had quieted, "I did not have anyone to talk to about such things, even if I had wished to."

Kirk's chuckling stopped abruptly and he sat up. "You didn't have any friends?" he asked incredulously. Spock shook his head.

"Vulcans do not generally feel friendship, but I had no comrades, no companions, no… wingmen."

Kirk was quiet for a moment. Spock became concerned that perhaps he had shared too much. It suddenly occurred to him that he should be embarrassed to have shared such a personal thing but he was not. He did not worry that Kirk would betray his confidence.

"Well, you've got me now," Kirk finally said, "and I will always be your friend." His voice and expression resonated with more conviction than Spock had believed his frivolous companion capable of. Kirk's face broke out into its habitual lop-sided grin. "It's nearly 20:00. Ready to research human socialization methods?"

Spock nodded.

Kirk smiled. "Then let's go get 'um, killer!"


	9. Chapter 9

Spock's shoulders slumped slightly as he treaded down the hall. It had been a long, tiring day for the Vulcan and he was looking forward to settling down for the night. He had taken four tests that morning, which had been extremely stimulating mentally though somewhat draining physically. It was when he had tripped in front of several other students that his day had taken a serious turn for the worse. While eating he spilled pomegranate juice on himself and had been forced to spend the rest of the day sticky. One of the straps on his bag ripped, causing it to fall to the ground and expel all of his books and smashing one of his tablets. He would be able to repair the tablet but it was inconvenient all the same.

He opened the door to his dorm and flipped on the lights.

"SURPRISE!!!"

The Vulcan managed to maintain self-control as an unexpected chorus of yells and cheers responded to his entrance. Except for his eyebrows rising so high that they threatened to disappear beneath his bangs, he appeared completely unfazed.

A large group of his fellow students were crammed into the dorm room, all of them smiling at him expectantly from beneath the colorful paper cones that were perched atop their heads. He recognized them as those he and Kirk often associated with, including Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, Janice Rand, Nyota Uhura, and, much to Spock's surprise, Leonard McCoy. Kirk was there of course, but that was to be expected, as he also inhabited the dorm.

"May I inquire as to why you are in my room?" Spock asked, his eyebrows resuming their normal altitude and his head cocking slightly to one side.

"It's a surprise party… for you!" Uhura replied, beaming. Kirk stepped forward and firmly placed one of the paper cones, which Spock supposed to be some sort of hat, on his roommate's head.

"Happy birthday, Spocko!" he said, hitting the Vulcan affectionately on the shoulder.

"My birthday?" Spock asked, perplexed. "It is not the anniversary of my birth."

"It is on Earth!" Kirk replied. "Today you are 22 earth years old!"

"As I was born on Vulcan, not Earth, it would be illogical to measure my age in solar years." Spock asserted. "And the passing of time means little to Vulcans. We do not celebrate the date of our birth."

"Well, we're not on Vulcan. We're on Earth and here we celebrate birthdays so just shut up and enjoy your party!" McCoy grumbled. Spock had to admit there was some warped logic in the cantankerous doctor's logic.

"This venue is rather small for the number of people." The Vulcan commented.

"The only two places you go are the library and here." Kirk answered.

"We were going to surprise you in the library," Sulu added with a smile, "but the librarian kicked us out."

"Besides, we're not staying here," Uhura said. "We're going out for your birthday!"

"So, where do you want to go?" Kirk asked. Spock thought for a moment.

"Perhaps you should make the selection for me." He finally said. "I am not familiar with the, as you call it, 'night life' surrounding the academy."

Kirk put a hand on his roommate's shoulder and nodded solemnly. "A wise decision. Do not worry, young grasshopper. I will teach you in the ways of partying."

Spock decided it would be best not to ask.

"There's a neat little pub downtown." Scotty suggested.

"Better yet," McCoy said, "I know this little place where the women—"

"I know the place!" Kirk exclaimed, clapping his hands. He and McCoy exchanged sly looks and they both chuckled. Uhura and Janice glared at them disapprovingly.

"I don't think so." Janice said shortly. "How about we go bowling? That's classic. And I think Spock would be really good at it."

"What do you want to do?" Uhura asked the Vulcan gently. He thought for a moment.

"I believe I have an idea."

They took public transit to the waterfront where a massive Ferris wheel, covered in bright lights like a miniature sun, towered over the dark water from its perch on the pier.

"It's beautiful." Janice breathed.

Spock, since he was the birthday boy, was given the first available seat. He looked at Uhura and she, understanding, moved toward the empty place beside him. However, before she could sit, Kirk slid into the spot and set the safety bar firmly in place over his and Spock's laps. He grinned at Uhura.

"Sorry." he said. "This one's full."

She glared at him as the Ferris wheel rotated to allow the next seat to be loaded.

"Why did you do that?" Spock asked Kirk. "Why did you sit beside me when you knew cadet Uhura intended to take that spot?"

Kirk clapped his hand on Spock's shoulder. "My friend, the affections of a woman are inconstant and fleeting, but true friendship lasts forever." he said.

"I fail to see how your statement relates."

Kirk smiled. "I know… Call it selfish, but I wanted to take the first rotation with my best friend on his birthday."

Spock looked at him. "You are behaving very sentimentally."

Kirk gave a mighty, pretend sniff and threw his arms around the Vulcan, ruffling his perfect hair violently.

"I just can't believe my little baby is growing up!"

Spock wriggled out of the crushing embrace and smoothed his hair.

"Next time, I will ride with cadet Uhura." he informed his roommate. Kirk smiled and sat back, admiring the stars in the inky black sky.

"Happy Birthday, Spock." he said. He grinned at the Vulcan. "May the year be full of surprises and adventures… most of them with me, of course."

"Of course." Spock replied. They sat quietly for a moment, admiring the view from the top of the wheel's rotation.

"Now that we're feeling all good, I have something to tell you." Kirk said.

"What is it?" the Vulcan asked serenely.

"I accidentally set your closet on fire. Sorry."

Spock took a deep breath. It seemed his year of surprises had already begun.

"Hey, Spock?"

"Yes?"

"Happy Birthday."


	10. Chapter 10

On the bottom floor of the building in which Spock and Kirk resided was a small kitchen in which adventurous cadets could attempt to do their own cooking. Spock generally avoided this area as it was usually very dirty as none of the other students seemed to have any trepidation about leaving spills un-wiped and dishes unwashed. Whenever he ventured down to this unhygienic, often smoky room he invariably cleaned the entire place only to find that it had reverted back to its dismal state just days later. He found it extremely disconcerting that the future members of Starfleet didn't have the discipline or inclination to keep their cooking space clean.

It was a Sunday afternoon and Kirk had gotten it into his head that he was going to cook dinner for Spock, Janice, and Uhura.

"It will be fun!" he had insisted. "We can do a double date!"

"There is only one date today," Spock replied coolly, "and that is the twenty-fourth of September."

However, Kirk had prevailed and he, wearing an appropriately hideous flowered apron, whistled cheerfully as he stirred a pot of something on the kitchen stove. Spock, as was his custom, was busily wiping up the numerous drops of whatever Kirk was preparing that were splashed out by Kirk's careless stirring.

"Isn't cooking fun?" the young man asked. "And everyone says it's so hard. This is easy!"

"What exactly are you planning on preparing?" Spock asked, trying to scrub a stubborn stain from the counter.

Kirk removed the pot from the heat and poured the thick, yellowish mixture into a rectangular glass dish. "I'm not really sure. I'm just throwing some stuff together that was left in the fridge." he replied, putting the dish into the oven.

Spock picked up and examined the now-empty carton of eggs that Kirk had used.

"This has a name written upon the lid." he said. "I believe that would indicate that those eggs are for private use by the person who wrote the name."

Kirk shrugged and opened the oven a crack so that he could observe his creation. "Oops. Too late now."

Spock frowned slightly. "That is stealing." he said. "You consider stealing to be wrong, correct?"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "I didn't _steal_ them. If you leave it in the fridge, it's free game."

"Actually it's confined." Spock corrected. Kirk turned to look at him, looking much dumfounded.

"What?"

"What?" Spock replied calmly.

"You say really weird things sometimes." Kirk muttered, shaking his head. He crossed the kitchen and began perusing the dishes in the cabinets. "Let's make some juice!" he said, pulling a two-quart pitcher from one of the shelves. "Would you check the freezer?"

Spock walked over and opened the freezer door, looking inside. He closed it again and then looked at Kirk expectantly.

"Well?" the young man asked.

"The freezer appears to be fully functioning." the Vulcan replied. "It was very cold inside."

"Is there any juice mix?" Kirk asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"No."

Kirk frowned. "Can I trust you to take this pitcher to the replicator and fill it up?"

"I believe you are capable of that, yes." Spock replied. Kirk handed him the pitcher.

"Whatever, just do it and bring it back. The girls will be here soon."

Spock took the pitcher and carried it carefully out of the room and down the corridor. The replicator was at the far end of the hallway and, surprisingly, there was no line to use it.

Spock placed the pitcher in the replicator, slid the door shut, and told the computer:

"Juice, two quarts."

There was a negative sounding beep.

"Specify," the computer replied with a slightly mechanical female voice, "type of juice."

Spock hesitated. Kirk had not given him specific instructions as to what type of juice to get.

"I do not know." Spock replied.

"Please identify main fruit ingredients of desired juice." the computer ordered.

"Insufficient data." The Vulcan said. "I cannot provide the required information."

"Please seek assistance." the computer replied. "Replication cannot commence."

"Perhaps you could make a recommendation."

"The most commonly replicated juice is derived from the Earth orange." said the computer. "It is most commonly ordered at breakfast time."

"It is not the time for breakfast." Spock told the computer. "It is the time for dinner. What is the most commonly replicated juice for dinner?"

"Apple cranberry."

Spock waited.

"Which is it?" he asked. "Apple or cranberry?"

"It is a fusion of both." the computer replied.

"A combination? Fascinating… What other combination juices do you have?"

"What are you doing?"

Spock turned to see Kirk, looking rather comical in his ruffled apron with flour smeared on his cheek and a dripping spoon in his hand, standing behind him. The Vulcan gestured towards the replicator.

"I am replicating juice, as you asked me."

"No," Kirk replied, "you're having a conversation with the computer, and it's creepy."

"The computer is an excellent conversationalist." Spock said. "It is far more easy to understand than you are."

Kirk forced a fake laugh.

"Ha, ha, ha. You are sooooo hilarious."

"I did not intend my comment to be a joke."

Kirk sighed. "I know. That's the worst part… Hey, replicator!"

It beeped in acknowledgment.

"Make some orange juice."

It beeped again, this time affirmatively. The door slid open, revealing the pitcher, now full with orange juice. Kirk pushed past Spock to get it.

"Orange juice is generally associated with breakfast." Spock replied, following Kirk as he walked carefully back to the kitchen. "It is not breakfast time. It is time for dinner, and that is what we are serving. I suggest you order another juice, preferably a fusion."

"But we're having breakfast." Kirk replied.

"I do not understand."

They entered the kitchen and Spock saw that Uhura and Janice had arrived while he was gone. There were four places set on the table and on each plate was a perfect, golden brown, steaming omelet.

"Ta da!" Kirk announced. "Breakfast is served."

He set the juice on the table and pulled out Janice's chair for her before sitting down in the chair beside hers. Spock, following suit, did the same for Uhura.

"You are mistaken. This isn't breakfast." he whispered, leaning toward Kirk. "In order for a meal to be considered breakfast it must be eaten in the morning."

"Whatever!" Kirk muttered back. "Just eat it, okay?" He looked up and smiled. "Enjoy the meal, ladies." he added at a normal volume. Janice took a bite of omelet.

"Oh, Jim!" she exclaimed. "This is delicious! Where did you learn to cook?"

"Some people are just naturally talented." he replied casually. Spock looked down at his own omelet and then over to the stove, upon which sat a slightly charred, rectangular glass dish containing the ashes of what may have once been food. Kirk followed Spock's gaze and shrugged. The Vulcan tilted his head slightly to one side.

"There's another replicator at the other end of the hall." Kirk whispered to him. Then he put his finger to his lips. Spock nodded, understanding that he was not to share that bit of information.

"What are you two boys whispering about?" Uhura asked.

"We were just talking about how beautiful the two of you look this evening." Kirk replied smoothly. The girl couldn't help but smile. Kirk lifted his glass of orange juice. "To the most beautiful ladies at Starfleet."

They all raised their glasses but Spock. They waited, their glasses hanging in the air.

"Pick up your cup!" Kirk muttered.

"Your statement is not accurate." Spock replied. "Based on conventional standards of beauty, Ms. Raynd and Ms. Uhura are not the most—"

Uhura slammed her foot into Spock's shin and gave him a firm look.

He lifted his glass.

"To the most beautiful ladies." he affirmed.

Kirk gave a tremendous cough that sounded slightly like the word "whipped".

"What was that?" Uhura asked, her eyebrows arching dangerously. Kirk took a sip of juice.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

He winked at Spock from behind his glass.

The Vulcan decided that he did not like dinner parties.


	11. Chapter 11

Spock counted the ceiling tiles for the twelfth time that hour. There were exactly 103 full tiles and 48 partial tiles. Each full tile had a side length of approximately 18.7 cm and each partial tile was approximately 5.3 cm by 18.7 cm. He could then, based on his measurements, calculate the exact area of the ceiling, accounting for a light fixture and a smoke detector.

His calculations, however, had to be pushed to the back of his mind as Kirk came stumbling into the room, singing out of key at the top of his lungs. He was dressed in civilian clothes which were covered in glitter and a shiny, fringed cone hat was strapped to his head. The paper of the hat read "Happy New Year!"

"Oh!" he slurred when he saw Spock, who had sat up from his lying position on the bed. "You missed *hiccup* a great party."

"I very much doubt that." The Vulcan replied coolly. "I find your odor unpleasant." He sniffed the air. "Body odor and—"

"Bourbon." Kirk finished, flopping down onto his bed and kicking off his shoes.

"You were with Cadet McCoy then." Spock said.

"Who else? And Scotty. Those Scots sure now how to have a good time! We found this place and the women—"

"Please spare me the description. If the three of you found it amusing, I am most certain I would not." Spock interrupted. Kirk pulled off his cone hat.

"What have you been doing all evening?" he asked. "Something boring, probably."

"Not at all." The Vulcan replied. "I kept myself amused for several hours by designing a new agricultural system for Rexicorus 9. A few modifications would completely revolutionize how the Federation develops not only that planet but all the undeveloped planets in that quadrant."

Kirk blinked at him and then snored loudly. "I knew it. Boring." He lay down on his bed, facing the wall so that his back was toward Spock.

"Cadet Uhura visited earlier as well." The Vulcan mentioned casually. Kirk spun around to face him.

"And?"

"I showed her my designs."

Kirk frowned. "You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, don't you."

"That would be relatively simple, depending on the size of the girl in question. I suppose that if she were a very large girl with a large amount of body fat even I might have trouble in sweeping her off her feet. I am confident, however, that with the correct amount of strength and leverage I would be able. I do not wish, however, to cause anyone, girl or otherwise, to lose their footing. Should I be incapable of catching them they would most likely fall, which could result in injury."

Kirk stared at him for a moment. "I didn't understand a word you just said."

"That's hardly unusual." Spock replied. "Even when sober you are not the brightest cadet at Starfleet. I am."

"You are not!" Kirk protested. "I bet there are lots of people who are smarter than you. Starfleet has only the best!"

"That is certainly not true." Spock said. "If Starfleet had only the highest caliber students, it would be attended exclusively by Vulcans. I am the only Vulcan here, and therefore I am the most capable."

"And the biggest freak." Kirk replied.

"I disagree with that statement and offer as evidence the engineering cadet who spends his free time licking the turbines." The Vulcan said calmly. Kirk considered this for a moment.

"All right, you have a point." He acquiesced. "That kid _is_ kind of freaky. But you do weird stuff too. Like, how many ceiling tiles do we have?"

"One hundred and three full tiles and forty-eight partial tiles." Spock replied without hesitation.

"What time is it here?"

"Thirty-two minutes and nineteen seconds after four o'clock."

"What time is it on Vulcan?

Spock replied something incomprehensible in the Vulcan time mode.

"See, I have no idea what you just said but I know that it was right." Kirk said. "How do I know? Because you're freaky like that! Think of how fun you would be at parties! The human computer!"

"Vulcan."

"What?"

"I'm not human. I'm Vulcan."

"Half-human, half-Vulcan. So we're both half right." Kirk replied obstinately.

"That is my species, yes," Spock said, "but as I was born on Vulcan, I am Vulcan. Just as you are American because you were born in America."

Kirk considered this for a moment, his intoxicated mind moving slower than usual. "Okay." He said at last. "I'll buy that."

"I wasn't selling it." The Vulcan replied.

"What?" Kirk asked.

"What?" Spock replied. But Kirk never replied. He had finally slumped over, fast asleep and already snoring.

Spock lay back down as well and began counting the ceiling tiles for the thirteenth time that hour.

There were 103 full tiles and 48 partial tiles. He could then, based on his measurements, calculate the exact area of the ceiling.

If only humans were as easy to figure out.


	12. Chapter 12

Spock sat on his bed, attempting to recuperate from an exhausting day. The day had initially been progressing well. He had finished all of his reading and homework for the next two weeks and had intended to use his now free evenings to work on a new project involving genetically altering Regulan bloodworms. He had been in the laboratory only to discover that his experimental group of bloodworms had inexplicably been removed from his area. He did the only logical thing in such circumstances and mounted a search for the missing worms. He found them some minutes later in a refrigerator, mixed in with the faculty members' lunches. If the effrontery of placing Regulan bloodworms in a teacher's salad weren't enough, the prankster had also ruined Spock's experiment. Spock had been cultivating his worm population for weeks and had kept them in a carefully controlled environment; now he would have to begin all over again.

Kirk burst into the room, flinging open the door as was his habit: Jim Kirk rarely did anything quietly.

"Spock!" he exclaimed, slamming the door shut and hurrying into the room. "I have to tell you about my day!" He paused and looked at the Vulcan critically. "Are you okay? I can never tell if you're sad or if that's just how you always look."

"Sadness is a human emotion." Spock replied coolly.

"Oh right. Silly me." Kirk sighed, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, what's up?"

Spock raised his eyes towards the ceiling. "The lighting fix—"

"I don't mean literally!" Kirk snarled. "I mean, what's bothering you?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "In that case, you should have said."

Kirk rolled his eyes again. "Do we have to have another chat about idiomatic phrases? Because that sermon is getting pretty old. Now, quit changing the subject and spill it."

"What shall I spill?"

"Spock, I swear I will hurt you."

Even though the Vulcan doubted his roommate's ability to do any real harm to his person, Spock decided to acquiesce.

"The experiment that I have been working on for some weeks has been ruined." He said calmly.

"What happened?" asked Kirk.

Spock clenched his teeth slightly. "A prankster evidently thought it would be humorous to put my Regulan bloodworm population into the lunches of the faculty."

Kirk looked away and bit his lip. "Oh man, Spock, that's just terrible! What kind of dirty, rotten slime-devil would do something like that! Oh, I'm mad. I am mad! I think I'll go and report this right now!" he said, standing up suddenly and moving quickly for the door.

"Are you no longer going to tell me about your day?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow. Kirk turned to look at him.

"Um, later." Kirk said, putting his hand on the doorknob. "I'm just so fired up about this! It's an injustice! That prankster is childish and insensitive and—"

"Named James T. Kirk?" Spock finished. Kirk smiled sheepishly with a nervous laugh.

"Me?" he laughed. "Really, Spock, who knew you had such an imagination?"

Spock raised his eyebrow even further, so that it threatened to disappear behind his carefully trimmed bangs.

Kirk walked back and flopped down on his bed.

"All right, it was me. But I didn't know those were your worms!" he said plaintively. "I promise that I'll make it up to you!"

"Yes, I already have something in mind." Spock replied coolly. Kirk sat up quickly.

"Hey, hey! I meant that I'll take you out for a drink or something!" he exclaimed. "Let's not get into cruel and unusual punishment over this! Save it for something _really_ bad!"

"Regulan bloodworms," Spock began, undeterred by Kirk's pleading, "require a special formula to be fed to them every six hours in the first two weeks of their life. When my new shipment of worms arrives, I shall delegate the task of feeding them to you."

"You wouldn't dare." Kirk threatened. Spock folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to one side.

"I'll kill them." Kirk continued. "I'll kill them and then you won't have any worms!"

"If you do," Spock replied calmly, "then I'll be forced to tell the professors who it was that put Regulan bloodworms in their meals."

Kirk fell back onto his bed with a sigh. "Couldn't I just buy you a beer and we'll call it even?"

"I do not drink." Spock replied.

"Well, I do." Kirk said, standing up. "Get your coat. We're going out to get you a beer."

"As previously stated—"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't drink." Kirk replied. "Don't worry, I'll drink yours."

Spock stood up slowly, picking up his jacket. "You will still have to feed my bloodworms."

Kirk sighed. "How about we do it in shifts? You feed them sometimes, I feed them sometimes…"

"Fine." Spock replied. "I will take the day shift, and you will take the night shift."

Kirk glared at the Vulcan. "Man, you really suck sometimes!"

"It is true that when using a straw, I do use a sucking action in order to drink. However, I fail to see how that relates to our current topic." Spock responded, cocking his head to one side.

Kirk pushed him towards the door.

"Spock, I swear I will hurt you."


	13. Chapter 13

It was late when Kirk and Spock returned to their dorm room, their civilian clothes mud-spattered, stained, and torn in places. Kirk limped to his bed and sat down to pull off his muddy shoes.

"Sometimes I don't know why I invite you to anything." He sighed.

"I do not know what you mean." Spock replied. "I thought that cadet training exercise was most effective and I think I performed quite well."

"For the last time," Kirk growled, "that was not a training exercise! It was tag! A children's game! And you took it way too far… I should have known when you tackled Rainier that it was too much for you."

"Rainier was fleeing my custody. I prevented him." Spock replied.

"It's tag! And he was 'It'!" Kirk exclaimed. "You were supposed to run away from him!"

Spock cocked his head to one side. "I am physically superior to Rainier and he was unarmed. Why would I run from him?"

"Because he was 'It'!"

"I do not understand what that means." Spock replied, raising his chin. Kirk sighed heavily and rubbed his dirty face with his dirtier hands.

"In tag, _the game_, one person is given the title of 'It'. He's 'It' or she's 'It' or _Rainier is 'It'_."

Spock looked thoughtful. "I do remember a dialogue similar to that occurring at the start of the exercise."

"Game." Kirk corrected sharply.

"And what does this person do, who is 'It'?" Spock asked, ignoring him.

Kirk took a deep breath. "Everyone who is not 'It' runs away from 'It' because if 'It' catches them, then they become the new 'It' and 'It' is no longer 'It'."

Spock looked at him, blinking slowly.

"Okay," Kirk said, "that didn't even make sense to me. Why is this so much easier to teach to children?" He stood up and, grabbing Spock by the shoulders, positioned the Vulcan in front of him.

"All right, pretend that I'm 'It'."

"I do not like to pretend." Spock replied. "It is illogical."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Okay, then don't pretend. Hypothesize… or something. Either way, I'm 'It'."

"Hypothetically." Spock added.

"Yes, hypothetically!" Kirk snapped. "Now, if I'm 'It' and you are not, what happens if I touch you?"

Kirk reached out to touch Spock's shoulder but before he could, Spock grabbed him by the wrist and twisted it behind his back.

"Stop it! This is not how you play tag!" Kirk yelled. Spock released him and he rubbed his wrist gingerly.

"I thought that I didn't want to be touched by you, as you are 'It'." The Vulcan said coolly.

"So you run away, not try to break my arm!" Kirk snarled. "You can't touch the person who's 'It'. It's against the rules. Only the person who is 'It' can tag other people."

"So the goal of the person who is 'It' is to _tag_ someone." Spock said. "Now the exercise—"

"Game."

"—is more clear." Spock finished. Kirk sat back on his bed with another heavy sigh.

"Finally!"

"Once tagged, the person who is 'It' can track the movements of their target remotely and so be led back to their base or camp, thereby locating any other escapees." Spock said with a satisfied nod. "A very useful training exercise."

Kirk shook his head. "I can't believe this. You're insane!"

"I assure you that I am perfectly sane." Spock replied. "As you well know, all cadets must undergo a psychological examination."

"You are the dumbest smart person I know." Kirk continued, undeterred. Spock considered this a moment, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"I do not understand the meaning of that comment."

Kirk grabbed his towel. "Whatever, I'm going to take a shower and when I get back you are not to ask me about this anymore!"

"Do not worry. I believe I understand the concept of the exercise now." The Vulcan replied calmly.

"Game!" Kirk yelled, slamming the door shut behind him as he left the room.

Spock stood in the room for a moment, somewhat confused by his roommate's erratic behavior. He peeled off his dirty clothes and placed them neatly into his laundry basket before pulling on his pajamas. He switched the lights off and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

It was unfortunate that Cadet Kirk had been so upset.

He was probably concerned because he was never as good as Spock at these sorts of exercises.


	14. Chapter 14

Kirk snored loudly, lying on Spock's bed in his wrinkled clothes just as he had ever since he had stumbled in from a night out two hours before. Spock had been out late himself, spending some quality time with his engineering project. Kirk had finished his much earlier so that he could go club-hopping with friends. His project, a potato battery, sat on his desk. Spock's project, a miniaturized warp matrix flux capacitor made from two old tablets, a used television, and a toaster, was currently is in his hands. He stood between the beds, somewhat at a loss what to do. He was tired, this he knew. He wanted to sleep, this was obviously. However, there was the problem of _his_ bed being presently occupied by Kirk.

He had hoped that his roommate would wake up so that Spock could ask him to vacate the bed. Unfortunately, half an hour had passed and Kirk snored determinedly on. Spock poked the unconscious Kirk tentatively and then harder, and a little harder. Kirk snorted.

Spock considered dragging his roommate off of the bed and onto the floor. If Kirk didn't wake to such provocation, then he could finish the night on the floor. But Kirk smelled, and Spock didn't want to touch him.

Slowly, he forced himself to consider the unpleasant possibility that he had, until then, emphatically avoided. He looked back at Kirk's rumpled, unmade bed sheets. They were dark green with small cartoonish dinosaurs and spaceships printed on them. Spock had always disapproved of these sheets for they erroneously displayed dinosaurs and modern earth crafts coexisting when humans in fact had not even evolved at the time of the dinosaurs. Indeed, mammals had only been small, rat like creatures at the time with many features still similar to their reptile ancestors. How could any manufacturer have the audacity to produce such misleading and inaccurate products at the expense of young, impressionable children… and Kirk?

Spock sniffed the bed tentatively and was quite sure that the sheets hadn't even been removed since they had first been placed on the bed at the beginning of the year. The thought of whatever unpleasant was surely growing between those sheets made Spock's skin crawl.

He carefully tucked his flux capacitor under on arm and, with his free hand, tried to arrange the covers into a more reasonable manner. Then he retrieved his bath towel and laid it on top of Kirk's newly made bed. Tentatively, Spock lay down on the towel and stared at the ceiling, his flux capacitor resting on his stomach with his hands protectively around it.

In all of his life Spock had never slept in the right corner of a room. For some reason he'd always naturally gravitated toward the left. It had always seemed to be the comfortable, familiar choice. Now, lying on a bed tucked in the right corner of the room, he felt extremely exposed. Spock preferred to lie on his right side. When he did so in _his_ bed, his face was towards the wall. Now when he lay on his right side, he faced the middle of the room. There was no closure, no boundary. So he turned to lie on his left side. Now his face was towards the wall and he felt the comfort of the wall's parameters but his body felt somewhat wrong. For some reason his left shoulder and arm seemed awkward and in the way and he couldn't find a way of laying on them without his left hand falling asleep.

Fitfully, Spock tossed himself on his back, staring at the ceiling once more. He knew what he was experiencing was not logical; it did not really matter what side of the room one slept on. But he simply could not bring himself to be comfortable in this new territory. There was only one solution. Every room had two left corners.

Kirk groaned as he awoke. The little light pouring through the slits in the blinds seared his eyes and he saw spots that obscured his vision completely for about thirty seconds. He stumbled out of bed, holding his aching head with one hand and groping blindly with the other for his desk. He tried to open the bottom drawer of the cabinets beneath the desk where he kept his hangover treatments (Alka-Seltzer and brandy) but the drawer stuck on something and wouldn't open. Kirk blinked hard and his vision began to clear. The drawer was caught on a foot.

Kirk yelled and jumped back. Something thudded loudly in his closet and he heard someone say, "Ow!"

After composing himself, Kirk examined the foot. It was attached to a leg, and an abdomen, but the rest of the body was obscured, tucked halfway into his closet. Kirk opened the half-shut door of his closet and looked inside.

Spock groaned and rubbed his head, which he had just cracked on the bottom shelf of Kirk's closet, having been startled awake by his roommate's yell.

"What on earth are you doing?" Kirk exclaimed, looking down at Spock.

The Vulcan crawled out of the closet, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he nursed his head wound.

"I was sleeping until you awakened me by your obvious overreaction to the situation." Spock replied coolly.

"You were in my closet!"

"Yes," Spock said, standing up and straightening his clothing, "but only because you were in my bed."

Kirk looked completely dumfounded now. "Then why didn't you just sleep in my bed like a _normal person_?"

Spock sniffed. "I'd rather not discuss the matter."

Kirk shook his head. "Whatever. I'm going to go take a shower. I smell like a bar."

"For once I agree with you." Spock replied. "I need to make a few adjustments to my—"

_CRUNCH._

Kirk, who had stepped into his closet in order to reach a clean towel on the very top shelf, lifted his foot tentatively.

"Dude, you left a bunch of crap on the bottom of the closet." He scraped the crumbled bits of metal, plastic and toaster out of the closet with a sweep of his foot.

"My miniaturized warp matrix flux capacitor!" Spock exclaimed; it was the closest thing to a wail he had produced since infancy. Kirk looked down at the pile of parts and then grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry. You really shouldn't leave stuff like that lying around."

Spock's mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

"Quit doing that, you look like a fish." Kirk said. He clapped Spock on the shoulder. "Listen, don't worry about your project! Just go to the dining hall and get a potato. It took me two minutes to make it into a battery. With your brains, you could probably do it in four."

Then Kirk pulled off his shirt, flipped his towel over his shoulder and, whistling, made his way to the showers.

Spock stared at the pile of twisted pieces of flux capacitor in horrified silence. Weakly, he swept up the parts and listlessly began trying to fit them together at his desk. If he had a whole day perhaps he could fix it but class started in just over an hour. He looked over at the potato battery on Kirk's desk.

When Kirk returned he had been sobered up from his shower and feeling a little more penitent.

"Hey Spock," he said, opening the dorm room door, "listen, I'm really sorry about your thing. I'll make you a potato battery if you—"

Kirk scanned the room. Spock was gone. As was Kirk's potato battery project!

"You little…!"

Kirk spun around and left the room again, sprinting down the hall to try and catch his project thieving roommate.

Half an hour later Spock wowed his engineering class with a polarized temporal hyperlink generator made out of a potato battery and a toaster.


End file.
